Charmed life.

Sometimes I realise I really do lead a charmed life.

Case in point: I took an assload of books to Powells in...February, I do believe. Beginning of the month. In those FOUR FREAKIN' BOXES of books were two copies of Thirty Years of Adventure, which I have actually got five copies of in total. Both copies were sealed.

I know this because I checked.

See, one of those books was the one that all my coworkers signed for me when I left WotC at the end of 2005, the one that was really more like a yearbook than anything else, the one that meant so much to me. I've never had coworker approval anywhere that counted as a serious job before.

The other day I was discussing with someone how I got hired (long story, but it Involves The Book) and realised: I had no idea where that copy of the book was.

I went home.

I did not have it.

I did have another sealed copy of Thirty Years of Adventure, however.

I did not panic, because I never panic. I calmly called my parents. They were going back down to Portland today to finish clearing out my grandmother's house and to take my aunt to Powell's. She's never been before.

I gave them explicit orders, but even as I did so, I thought that the odds I would ever see my book again were around nil, and I had better damn well resign myself to that fact because it wouldn't be back.

And then I got a call this afternoon, stating that, actually, the book was there, and it was now in my parents' possession, and life was made of awesome.

So, as I say. Charmed life.